The Stewards of Reed, Volume 1: The Rise of Fallon (33 page)

“Are you certain you do not want the bed for yourself?” asked Zeke. “I hear it is harder to rise from the ground when you become old.”

Fallon threw his pillow at his brother, but he was laughing now. He lay on the floor for some time, unable to sleep. After a while he heard the soft sounds of people talking – even laughing – on the front porch. “What do you suppose is going on out there?” he asked.

“It sounds as though Father and Aunt Rebecca are making up for lost time,” replied Zeke, rolling over and pulling his covers up high.

Fallon grew quiet. He thought about his relationship with Zeke, and how much he loved his little brother. He thought about how long his father and Rebecca had been somewhat estranged and how difficult that must have been. He was sorry he had been so annoyed by his aunt and uncle’s intrusion into his birthday. He was happy that his father had this time with his sister. Their laughter continued long into the night, long after Fallon finally fell asleep.

*************

It had taken some time before Gentry was able to make his way back up to Jessum. His relationship with Daria was becoming more and more serious and it seemed as though every free moment was spent in her company. But eventually Gentry forced himself to make another trip. “Luca deserves closure,” he said to himself.

He tried not to be too alarmed when he rode by Dennison’s tiny house on the edge of town and failed to see any signs of life. He made his way to The Happy Miner and sat in his usual corner. He was dismayed to find a different bartender at the pub, one that Gentry had not seen before.
Perhaps Dennison has the night off
, he thought, though he had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Where might the grumpy old bartender be this evening?” Gentry asked when the waitress brought back his pint of ale.

She gave him a confused look.

“You know, the dark-haired man?” he pressed.

“Oh. He has been gone for quite some time,” she said.

“Where did he go?” Gentry tried to hide the rising alarm in his voice.

“I do not know. He never spoke much about his private affairs.”

Gentry quickly drank his pint and after inquiring with a few other patrons about Dennison’s whereabouts – all to no avail – he left in a hurry. As he mounted Casper, his mind was a flurry of indecision about where he should go. If he traveled back to Reed, he knew it would likely be a while before he would have another chance to search for Dennison. He thought that perhaps he might search for Dennison back in Colton, but it was a long way to the Main Bridge through Bartow; that trip could take days and Gentry did not have much time. There was no other option,
unless
….

The sun had long since set when Gentry made up his mind – he was going to take a chance and risk the ride through Koman. It was the quickest way to Colton, by way of the Stockton Bridge, and would cut his time in half if not more. He galloped past the sleeping Komanites – the sworn enemies of the Reedites – just before the first rays of the sun began to appear on the horizon. He did not stop until he had crossed the Stockton Bridge. He set up camp and both he and Casper settled in for a long overdue rest.

It was past midnight the next day before Gentry and Casper reached the Village of Colton. He was beyond tired and thought about just heading to Luca’s old house to sleep, but somehow Gentry found himself in the alleyway across from the Settler’s Inn instead. Before long he saw two familiar faces come out for some fresh air and a smoke. Troy and Slim were not talking much, but soon they were joined by someone who had more than enough to say – Ned. The fat man seemed to have gained even more weight since Gentry had seen him last, and apparently he still had a penchant for testing his boundaries with unsavory characters.

“I trust you are growing accustomed to being second in command again, Slim?” Ned teased.

Slim scowled back at the fat man but said nothing.

“I suppose you thought you were done with him for good. Too bad there is no good money in pouring beers, even in a mining town.”

Gentry’s heart started to beat rapidly with excitement. He mounted Casper and headed towards the shabby green house that Dennison once occupied, the very house where Slim and Troy captured him (temporarily) almost a year ago to this day. Gentry had never been so happy to see the soft glow of a lantern in a shabby rundown house. Dennison had finally come home.

*************

Having spent the prior year searching in vain for Lord Milton, Lady Dinah reluctantly admitted defeat. Lord Clintock, Lord Rowan and Lady Adeline had not been able to find any trace of him either; it was as though the old wizard vanished into thin air. “I am certain the Eastern Wizards are behind this,” sobbed Lady Adeline before they parted ways last winter. “We must do something.”

“We shall address this matter at the next meeting of the Council of Wizards,” said Lady Dinah. “I assure you, if the Eastern Wizards are behind his disappearance, they shall be sorry.”

She still could not admit to herself that Lord Milton might actually be gone, but there was nothing more that she could do for the time being, so she returned her focus towards finding her mother’s missing journals. She was currently in possession of two journals, but the set was not yet complete. The words were still impossibly jumbled.

Lady Dinah had not been to the Quintara Region in quite some time, but she remembered the Town of Sandoval fondly. Such a warm, happy place with colorful flowers and wild animals everywhere. Although it was in stark contrast to her own home in Mt. Xavier, it was the closest thing to paradise that Lady Dinah could imagine.

Lady Leona was the only wizard that remained in Sandoval; all the others had been killed in the Second War. She lived deep in the jungle, and her place was notoriously difficult to find. Fortunately, Lord Rowan’s wife, Lady Nadine, had sent word that the queen was coming. So when Lady Dinah finally reached the harbor in Sandoval, after spending several days in a boat that had originated in Henly, Lady Leona was there to greet her.

The dark-haired beauty was dressed in colorful robes that reminded Lady Dinah of Zahara, the beautiful lady she had met in Koman. Lady Dinah looked down at her own shabby grey traveling clothes with some embarrassment, but the emotion was fleeting. Soon she would be drinking tea in a massive tree house of sorts, watching as parrots flew by outside. The rooms were all decorated with colorful flowers that were as fragrant as they were beautiful, and the sounds of bubbling water fountains filled the air. It was impossible not to feel at peace.

Lady Leona’s library failed to produce any of Lady Delia’s journals, but Lady Dinah did not leave disappointed. Although she had been secluded in Lady Leona’s tree house the entire time and did not see much of Sandoval, the trip was nevertheless refreshing and relaxing, and she vowed to return soon.

“You are welcome here anytime, my Queen,” Lady Leona said.

“Thank you. And you are welcome to Mt. Xavier, anytime,” Lady Dinah replied.

Lady Leona smiled graciously. “I shall be there soon enough for the next meeting of the Council of Wizards.” In truth, Lady Leona was not looking forward to leaving her tropical paradise for a purple mountain so hard and cold, but Lady Dinah was queen, and the queen always hosted the meeting. “Lord Fabian is expecting you,” she continued. “You may find him at the Fountains of Laredo.”

Lady Dinah was grateful that she need not wander aimlessly in search of her fellow wizards this trip. The other wizards’ advance knowledge of her travel plans was the primary reason she was able to convince Gordon she could make this journey alone.

“Please travel with care,” the dwarf had said before she departed Mt. Xavier. “I do not want you to go missing, too.”

*************

After sleeping all day, Gentry finally left the little brown shack that Luca had once called home, and made his way towards the little blue house that Clive had once called home. He tied Casper up to a post and walked up to the front door. He had barely started to knock when an angry voice called out to him from behind the closed door.

“What do you want?”

“Dennison.”

“He does not live here, you fool.”

“Aye, but he shall come here when you ask him to.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I know what happened to Clive.”

Silence.
Edna slowly opened the door and looked Gentry up and down.

“What did you do to my son?” she asked, her voice shaking with fear and anger.

“Go find Dennison. I shall speak to him and only him. He must come back alone if you want to know what happened to Clive.”

The old woman scowled at Gentry, and then mustering all the courage she had, she pushed her way past him and hurried down the street.

Gentry knew it would not be long before Dennison returned. He had been watching the man in his house just a few minutes prior. He also knew that Dennison’s gang was happily getting drunk at the Settler’s Inn, so they were not of concern, at least not tonight. He took his position in the corner of the entryway and waited. It had not been more than fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours. Gentry was starting to worry that things were amiss and was about to abort the plan – the plan he had only conceived of the night prior but in truth had been working on for weeks, months, years – when he heard heavy footsteps approaching. They stopped at the door.

“Wizards be damned, I am no fool; I know you shall attack me as soon as I open the door. Is that how you took Clive down? Show yourself, you coward! Fight like a real man!”

The anger in Dennison’s voice was undeniable and Gentry took a deep breath. As it so happened, Gentry
had
been planning to tackle Dennison once he stepped inside the entryway. But Dennison’s words gnawed at him, gnawed at his pride.
I am no coward.
He knew he could take Dennison – he had already proven that years ago. The adrenaline was coursing through his body when Gentry finally opened the door and revealed his face to the man he had been hunting for the past five years.

“You?!” Dennison’s shock was apparent. He had wronged many people in his life, but he never imagined the man from the River Nye was responsible for the death of Clive and possibly others from his crew. After all, Dennison had been the one left with a black eye after providing safe transport of Gentry and his horse across the river.

“I see you remember me,” said Gentry as he walked out the front door.

Dennison remained silent. He stepped backwards and crouched down a little, preparing to battle.

Gentry immediately lunged at him, knocking Dennison to the ground. The two men wrestled for some time, rolling around in the dirt, throwing punches. Gentry was having a much harder time pinning Dennison down than he had expected, but when he thought Dennison might be reaching for a weapon, a sudden burst of strength came through him and he finally gained the upper hand. Gentry was now squarely atop Dennison, his hand firmly on the man’s neck.

“You cannot do anything to me that has not been done before,” goaded Dennison, remembering back to his childhood and his poor excuse for a father. He was still struggling to free himself from Gentry’s grip when he saw the knife. It was his knife, from long ago, and now it was in Gentry’s hand, and it was so close to his own throat.
Death by my own weapon
, he thought in disbelief.

Gentry saw Dennison’s eyes grow wide in anticipation of what would happen next.

“I have a son,” Dennison pleaded, not taking his eyes off the knife.

“You say that as though it means something.”

“It does.”

“Then how could you have killed another child. How could you have beaten Luca to death?”

Suddenly it all made sense to Dennison. He had not thought about the boy in a long while. In truth, he tried hard to push that memory from his mind. “I am a different man now,” he said softly, with remorse that seemed genuine.

Gentry was not convinced. The tip of the knife was now pushing into Dennison’s throat. Gentry’s own heart was racing – he only had to give the knife a big shove and justice for Luca would finally be had.

“Good-bye.”

That was the last thing Gentry said before everything went black.

*************

Although he had not undertaken any trips outside the village that year, Fallon was quite excited about his training nonetheless; Steward Isaiah had finally introduced the subject of sorcery. Unlike the weapons training, Fallon was quite a natural at this new skill. He also appreciated the fact that he did not have to make his own wand; the sight of his makeshift sword still brought some embarrassment to him.

Isaiah had presented Fallon with the wand shortly after he returned from celebrating his 18
th
birthday in Littlebrook. There was a simple wooden box sitting on the Steward’s desk with a blue ribbon tied around it. “Go on, open it,” the Steward said, trying hard not to smile.

Fallon had never seen anything more beautiful in his life – well, except for maybe that girl with the jet-black hair. It was a slender white stick adorned with tiny veins of grey and tan and black. It was so smooth to the touch that Fallon could not help but caress it.

“It comes from the Taiga Forest,” said Isaiah.

“Where the mysterious white deer are?” asked Fallon.

“Aye,” replied Isaiah. “How did you know about them?”

“Gentry told me. He said his father went hunting for them once.”

“Oh, and did he catch one?” asked the Steward, amused.

“No. And I do not believe he has any desire to try again. That forest is haunted, you know.”

Isaiah smiled. “Well, this particular wand was crafted long ago, before the forest was…haunted, as you say. It has been passed down for centuries to the Stewards of Reed.”

“But your wand does not look like this,” noted Fallon, a bit confused.

“No, I still have my wand. There are actually three different wands that have been passed down. Mine, yours, and a third that is kept in a secret compartment in the Council Chambers.”

“Only three? But what happens if the wand breaks?” asked Fallon.